“ JAWS takes Manhattan ...
A wicked kicker in the final pages.”
—San Francisco Examiner and Chronicle
“First-rate thrills and chills.”
—Publishers Weekly
Want to pick up a thriller that arrives
with the kinetic energy
of a meteor smacking the earth? Read RELIC …
By the time the writers have weaved
the wildly divergent elements together for an
inevitable and explosive climax,
anyone with a pulse will be nervously checking
the front door locks.”
—Tribune and Times, Tampa, FL
“Wonderfully spooky ...
A real page-turner.”
—Library Journal
“A straight thriller … That’s like saying that
GONE WITH THE WIND
was just another Civil War film.”
—Orlando Sentinel
“A real bone-chilling shocker.”
—Express Books
“Superbly exciting.”
—The Bergen Record
“Relic is a straight thriller. That’s like saying, however,
that Die Hard was just another action adventure flick or
that Gone With the Wind was just another Civil War film.
Each stands as a superlative example of its type.”
—Orlando Sentinel
“A high-concept, high-energy thriller ... builds to a
superbly exciting climax, and then offers a final twist to
boot.”
—Publishers Weekley
“Preston and Child’s refreshing penchant for realistic detail
elevates their tale far above Crichton’s [Jurassic Park] ...
Containing just the right blend of gripping suspense, colorful
characters, and credible science, Relic has all the
ingredients for well-deserved best-seller status.”
—Booklist
“Superbly exciting.”
—The Record (Bergen County, NJ)
“This is a real page-turner, part Jaws, part Poseidon Adventure.”
—Library Journal
“It’s the year’s hottest.”
—Literary Guild Bulletin
“Relic satisfies the primal desire to be scared out of one’s
wits ... The ending is a real bone-chilling shocker.”
—Express Books
“Jaws takes Manhattan”
—San Francisco Examiner and Chronicle
“Relic is as good as this type of novel gets.”
—Hartford Courant
By Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child
Mount Dragon*
Relic
By Douglas Preston
Talking to the Ground
Jennie
Cities of Gold
Dinosaurs in the Attic
Edited by Lincoln Child
Dark Company
Dark Banquet
Tales of the Dark 1-3
*forthcoming
RELIC
DOUGLAS PRESTON
LINCOLN CHILD
FORGE
A TOM DOHERTY ASSOCIATES BOOK
NEW YORK
To Charles Crumly.
—D. P.
To Luchie, who came along for the ride.
And in memory of Nora and Gaga.
—L. C.
NOTE: If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”
This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously.
RELIC
Copyright © 1995 by Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form.
Cover art by Tim Thiesen
A Tor Book
Published by Tom Doherty Associates, Inc.
175 Fifth Avenue
New York, NY 10010
Tor Books on the World-Wide Web:
http://www.tor.com
Tor® is a registered trademark of Tom Doherty Associates, Inc.
ISBN: 0-812-54326-2
First edition: February 1995
First international mass market edition: November 1995
First mass market edition: January 1996
Printed in the United States of America
0 9 8 7 6 5 4
A C K N O W L E D G M E N T S
The authors wish to express their thanks to the following persons, who generously lent their time and/or expertise in helping to make Relic the book it is: Ken Goddard, Tom Doherty, Bob Gleason, Harvey Klinger, Anna Magee, Camille Cline, Denis Kelly, Georgette Piligian, Michael O’Connor, Carina Deleon, Fred Ziegler, Bob Wincott, Lou Perretti, and Harry Trumbore.
INTRODUCTION
= 1 =
The Amazon Basin, September 1987
At noon, the clouds clinging to the top of Cerro Gordo broke free and scattered. Far above, in the upper reaches of the forest canopy, Whittlesey could see golden tints of sunlight. Animals—probably spider monkeys—thrashed and hooted above his head and a macaw swooped low, squawking obscenely.
Whittlesey stopped next to a fallen jacaranda tree and watched Carlos, his sweating camp assistant, catch up. “We will stop here,” he said in Spanish. “Baja la caja. Put down the box.”
Whittlesey sat down on the fallen tree and pulled off his right boot and sock. Lighting a cigarette, he applied its tip to the forest of ticks on his shin and ankle.
Carlos unshouldered an old army packboard, on which a wooden crate was awkwardly lashed.
“Open it, please,” said Whittlesey.
Carlos removed the ropes, unsnapped a series of small brass clasps, and pulled off the top.
The contents were packed tightly with the fibers of an [4] indigenous plant. Whittlesey pulled aside the fibers, exposing some artifacts, a small wooden plant press, and a stained leather journal. He hesitated a moment, then drew a small but exquisitely carved figurine of a beast from the shirt pocket of his field jacket. He hefted the artifact in his hand, admiring again its workmanship, its unnatural heaviness. Then he placed it reluctantly in the crate, covered everything with the fibers, and reattached the lid.
From his rucksack, Whittlesey took out a folded sheet of blank paper, which he opened on his knee. He brought a battered gold pen out of his shirt pocket and began writing: